


Five times Jaskier hid nothing from Geralt and one time the Witcher finally noticed the obvious

by cucumber_of_doom



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, Gen, Geralt is so dense he might collapse into a black hole at any moment, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Cares About Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier can talk to animals, can be read as pre relationship, curses gone right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:01:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27083071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cucumber_of_doom/pseuds/cucumber_of_doom
Summary: Jaskier has a special talent he never tried to hide from Geralt: He can understand and talk to animals.He never tried to hide this from Geralt, but our witcher is a bit dense.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 10
Kudos: 127





	Five times Jaskier hid nothing from Geralt and one time the Witcher finally noticed the obvious

1

Jaskier got offended about the way cats behaved sometimes.

Geralt had yet to find a way to shut up the bard he had unwillingly picked up in Posada. Not even the stares of the villagers seemed to stop his ceaseless chattering. Ignoring it hadn't had the desired effect: instead of shutting up, the bard seemed to have a desire to fill fill every second with some kind of sound. Either with his lute, his voice or both. He simply did not seem to do silence. If he had at first hoped getting captured by the elves would rid him pf the human, it seemed to have only encouraged him further.

Unperturbed by the stares of the villagers, Jaskier spun a tale about how he had once come upon a nest of young hares in a field near his childhood home and spend the better part of a week inventing useless plans of how to best dissuade his father‘s hounds from coming near. The child had ultimately been unsuccessful and distraught. Not that Geralt had listened to the winding tale.

His own, much less frivolous and more imminent plan was to see if he could secure a contract and ditch the bard, then go on with his life. 

They walked to the tavern and behind the building to tie up Roach before Geralt would go about seeing if there was any work for him to pick up. A ghoul or two would make for a nice and easy contract after the headache his dealings with the “devil” had led to. While he tied Roach to the fence in reach of some lush grass, Jaskier sat down on one of the crates stacked behind the building, again strumming his newly gifted lute. Sure, it was a nice one as far as Geralt could tell, but he wished for some damn quiet.

The loud hiss of a cat made Geralt look up from petting his horse, finding the orange tomcat perched on one of the fence posts a few feet away; back arched, tail raised and fur puffed up at the witcher before it sprinted away and out of sight. Geralt merely stared back, but Jaskier hopped off the fence, clearly upset.

„Rude!“ he yelled after the cat and sat his lute down into the grass. Geralt scowled.

„Cats don‘t like witchers. They sense how unnatural we are.“

He did not add that this made them smarter than the bard in his opinion. No sense of self preservation, this one, but he would learn. Humans always saw reason sooner or later.

Jaskier turned towards him, hands on his hips and chest puffed out like a colorful, skinny rooster. 

„No need to be so mean about it. Walking away would have done her just as well. No need to hiss,“ Jaskier huffed. “And most certainly no need to be so mean about it. Just leaving is always an option when you don’t like to be around someone.”

Jaskier narrowed his eyes at the cat, which had come to a stop in the meadow, grooming itself.

„Don‘t mind him. Some cats are just assholes. And you said something about looking for work. So how does a witcher go about that when they aren‘t intercepted while leaving a tavern after secretly appreciating critically underrated musical performances?“

„Hmm,“ Geralt answered and Jaskier rolled his eyes before bending to retrieve his lute from it‘s resting place on the ground. If the human truly planned on sticking around – which he doubted would last past the first rainy night out on the road – he would learn that becoming upset on behalf of a witcher was wasted time. Cats would be the least of their troubles.

But the bard would not be around for long enough to learn that piece of wisdom. Geralt, for his part, had learned not to care about cats. He cared about their antics as little as about human affairs.

2

Dogs naturally trusted Jaskier.

As much as it often led to slightly better pay, Geralt hated working directly for nobility. There were always complications with this kind of contract. A vital piece of information missing. Part of the money staying unpaid for inane reasons. Village elders were stingy assholes too – of course – but at least they had no influence on the law. A pissed off noble could do more harm to a witcher than some thrown stones. 

Having Jaskier with him was actually helpful on occasions like this. No matter what kind of trouble the bard attracted regularly: he knew how to talk to nobles and how to formulate questions to get the answers Geralt needed to make his work go as smoothly as possible. He had the experience to parse his way through double layered talk and the unspoken things happening in these kinds of places and always let Geralt know if he had missed something in a twist of words. It almost made putting up with his unending questions worth it.

The lord Geralt needed Jaskier’s help with had run off to attend to some matter of running his estate or another and left them to wait in his hall. Geralt still had some details about the contract he wanted to clarify before setting off and needed to talk to the lord some more. He sat on one of the benches in the great hall near the lit fireplace, nursing an ale while Jaskier paced in front of him, trying to change his mind.

“Geralt, come on! Let me come with you. I will be nothing but a silent observer. At a save distance, but one that still allows me to see what is going on? You are always so sparing with your details, my dear witcher,” Jaskier rambled while gesticulating wildly.

Geralt only grunted in reply, having already said what he thought of the idea. Jaskier would only get in the way of his hunt and the human knew the argument. They’d had it enough times over the past two years, especially in cases where the information was as sparse as here. It might be wraiths who haunted the woods and endangered the lumber operations, but reports had been just vague enough for Geralt to not be entirely sure. He did not need the added stress of keeping an eye out for his bard creeping too close to get a better look at the action.

“...and surely you understand, dear friend, how essential my added observance will be to your success!”

Geralt had tuned out whatever argument led to this conclusion.

“No, Jaskier,” he said again and the bard plopped down on the bench opposite Geralt. He grabbed his abandoned goblet of wine and drowned what remained in it, then pointed an accusing finger at Geralt.

“How am I supposed to compose epics about your adventures if you never let me tag along anymore?”

“What you are supposed to is to stay alive and safe. Which means staying in this warm and dry building while I am out in the woods, risking my life.”

“Boohoo, Geralt,”Jaskier snapped, clearly cross at being patronized. He refilled his goblet in preparation for another rant, when one of the lord’s hunting dogs slipped through the half open door. The bitch had been standoffish earlier, not even caving at Jaskier cooing at her from afar. Now she carried one of her puppies, looked up at Jaskier and deposited the little thing in his lap. His face went from startled, through delighted to a mixture of panic and frustration. 

“You really needn’t do that, my dear. I am sure your pups will be perfectly safe where you kept them before and whatever it is that is lurking in the woods won’t get to them either way,” Jaskier told the dog who looked up at him with big, expectant eyes.

“There is truly no need for… hey! Wait!” 

Geralt watched the dog leave and return twice more with another pup: each deposed delicately into the bard‘s lap, where they snuffled and squirmed for a bit before calming with their mother’s return. She sat back down in front of him, tail wagging. Jaskier had no choice but to make sure none of the defenseless little things accidentally fell, which effectively immobilized him where he sat.

The way Jaskier had with unfamiliar dogs kept surprising Geralt. While this dog was no guard dog, a hunter was no spoiled pet either and would not usually be won over by strangers so quickly. It was curious.

„Geralt…“ Jaskier started, still looking conflicted and Geralt was sure he failed at keeping the smugness entirely off his own face.

“It looks like our argument has been settled, bard. Be sure to sufficiently entertain your new audience while I am gone.”

Whatever Jaskier planned to say next was nipped in the bud by the return of absent lord. Geralt had work to do.

3

Jaskier liked birds.

This was one of the things Geralt learned about his human tagalong. It was after realizing that - while complaining both loud and constantly - Jaskier was not dissuaded from following Geralt by sleeping rough, but before seeing him start a tavern brawl over opinions on his rhyming scheme for the first time.

Geralt had come back to the farm in the early afternoon, drenched in mud and pond water after taking care of a minor drowner problem on the property. It had only been one drowner and a scrawny one at that. Easy coin if there had been any to be made in the first place, but being paid in food and a dry barn to sleep in seemed good enough for only a few hours of work and Jaskier had been moaning about the inadequacy of trail-rations for days. 

Most of Geralt’s afternoon had spend staking out the overgrown pond on the lower cow pasture until the drowner crawled out of the water, only to die quickly on the witcher’s silver blade. He had not even gotten injured, which was always a nice bonus to whatever payment he received.

Jaskier – to his surprise – was where he had left him: sitting in the grass near where Roach grazed with the family's goats, lute in his lap. Geralt stopped under the canopy of apple trees, the drowner head clutched in one hand and clothes more wet than bloody.

The farmer‘s children had gathered around Jaskier in a semi-circle while the bard made up a silly song about the adventures of a goat, as far as Geralt gathered. If not for his enhanced hearing he would not have been able to make out the words at the distance. 

It was surprising to discover that the bard looked as much at home here in the sunshine as he did in any tavern he performed at. Maybe happier. Less of a performance, more actual play. And neither drinking nor trying to bed any of his listeners, which lowered the possibility for disaster.

The music stopped when one of the roaming chickens wandered into the circle, four yellow chicks following behind and started to peck at the bard‘s pale blue trousers. Instead of complaining about having his silks ruined he reached down and stroked the hen‘s back. It clucked and tilted it‘s head a few times before insistently pecking at Jaskier’s boot-laces.

Jaskier bowed from his sitting position with a flourish that send the children into a fit of giggles and had the hen scratch at the ground. The sudden movement had most likely startled her.

„Oh thank you, my dear. You look very fetching yourself,“ Geralt heard Jaskier greet the bird just as politely as he would any lady he tried to charm.

The hen clucked some more and Jaskier carefully slung his lute onto his back and held out a hand for the chicks to inspect, which they did eagerly and with much peeping. Maybe expecting food - which Jaskier could not offer - or gentle pets, which he did.

„Are those your babies? What a lovely brood, if I might say. Clearly very well behaved and as pretty as their mother,“ Jaskier said to the hen, delicately petting one of the little birds. If witchers had emotions, it would be quite the adorable sight.

As if sensing that thought, Jaskier looked up and used the hand not currently mobbed by chicks to wave.

„Geralt, you are back!“

Geralt grunted, then turned to find the farmer to present him with the drowner‘s head and finish his business. There were stranger things on the Continent than bards talking to poultry.

4

Birds, as a general rule, liked Jaskier.

He was supposed to meet up with Jaskier in the next town in two days time after the bard had left him two months ago to perform at some minor noble‘s wedding and then wanted to see what kinds of opportunities mingling with the guests could provide him. 

Since parting ways his hunts had gone well. He had not sustained any mayor injuries recently and with Jaskier absent did not have to keep an eye out for any humans who decided to sneak after him despite promises to stay safely behind.

The surprising thing was, that Geralt found himself almost looking forward to meeting the reckless human again. He could be loud and annoying, but despite that he had grown on Geralt. The mere fact that Jaskier was not afraid of him – no matter how smart this would be – was something he was unused to. And Jaskier had not let up, despite having both seen and experienced what traveling with a witcher entailed. He had stayed through cold, wet nights spend in the woods and inns refusing them service.

There was always the possibility of Jaskier not showing up. Until now the bard had always found him, but the day he wandered away and found himself in a more interesting and comfortable place than following Geralt on the Path: it would come. 

Once he reached the village Geralt would see if there were any contracts for him and if not, wait for a day and no longer.

Geralt sat comfortably in the saddle while roach ambled along the winding path. Since there was no chance of reaching the village before dark and no immediate need to press through the night, Geralt let her set the pace. They would spend another night under the stars and set out again after sunrise. 

Last time he had been here with Jaskier, the bard prattling on about one thing or another all the way from breakfast like there was nothing dangerous potentially hiding in the trees. Like he’d felt safe with Geralt. Ridiculous. Like there was anything like safety out here.

Dusk had settled over the forest by the time they reached where Geralt remembered a campsite from previous visits in the area. He dismounted on the trail and led Roach into the trees. Better to be careful in case someone else had decided to make camp here tonight. As far as he could tell it had been a well known place for a long time, so it would not be out of the ordinary to find the small clearing occupied by this time of day.

He was not wrong. Geralt heard the faint sound of music long before he reached the clearing and left Roach behind by a nice patch of greenery that was safe to eat for her. He silently crept closer, careful to stay out of sight.

Only one person, no horse, going by detectable heartbeats. His hand crept towards the grip of his steel sword anyway, just in case. There were all sorts odd creatures that could hide themselves at this distance. It could be a trap. It could be all kinds of things.

The sight that greeted once he could see through the undergrowth was odd, to say the least. 

First, he knew the traveler: Jaskier sat perched on a log next to a stone-encircled firepit which had been used by many travelers in the past. It had not yet been lit, but wood had been stacked ready for a spark to ignite it. Jaskier’s skills at making camp had improved by a lot since their first meeting, Geralt noted. In his arms – of course – he held his lute, but next to him perched not only one small songbird, but several. It was bizarre.

Bluebirds and blackbirds and sparrows, like there was nothing special about perching on a bard’s shoulder or hopping around his feet. Like it was normal for wild birds to sing along to the sound of the lute. Like this did not go against anything Geralt had learned about the flightiness of birds and wildlife in general over the course of his long life.

Jaskier had not noticed him – dangerously careless, he thought absentmindedly – and Geralt stood and looked his fill. And listened. 

It was a strange song Jaskier played. Neither raunchy drinking song nor silly ditty or any of the ballads heard at courts. Something for the birds to join in, which they did with relish. Birdsong mixed with the sound of the lute and the bard’s voice like they were meant to go together. This was not something he had witnessed the human do before, not to this extend. Sure, Jaskier talked to all kinds of critters, but so did Geralt when he grew too lonely on the Path. Only that he himself made sure for no-one to witness him talking to anything but his own horse, which most people excused as the attachment to ones most loyal companion.

Listening and watching was almost hypnotizing, thought Geralt’s amulet stayed still where it rested against this chest. After a while, Geralt shifted his weight and the birds scattered. Disturbing the scene almost felt like a loss, but he was pleased that Jaskier instinctively reached for the dagger in his boot.

“Geralt!” Jaskier greeted him enthusiastically, dagger going back into his boot before he stood and basically skipped towards the witcher. “What a pleasant coincident to find you here and now instead of there and the day after tomorrow!”

“I remembered the campsite,” Geralt answered, as always unsure how to react to the enthusiastic greeting at their reunion. 

He waited a moment – still hoping for words that did not come to mind – and whistled for Roach who came trotting though onto the clearing shortly after. She came to a halt in front of the two men, shook her head and immediately nosed at Jaskier’s pocket. Good girl, providing a much needed distraction, Geralt thought. 

Jaskier seemed happy enough every time Roach showed him any attention, even if clearly motivated by whatever food he had on his person. This time was no different.

Jaskier unearthed a few dried grapes from his pocket, popped two into his oown mouth and offered a few to Roach, which she tool from his outstretched palm without hestitation.

„I knew you secretly liked me, Roach!“ the bard exclaimed only to be butted in the chest hard enough to almost knock him onto his ass. He only laughed and reached out to pet Roach behind the ears, which the she tolerated.

“Don’t be so grumpy, my dear. You have spend too much time with only Geralt for company. Have you had enough rest? Been able to sleep in a warm stable every once in a while or have you two stayed outside much? It has been a bit chilly lately.”

Roach snorted.

“I see. Do you wan me to give you some braids tomorrow?” A flick of Roach’s left ear. “Fine. Suite yourself. You just say if you change your mind.”

The mare started chewing in his bright purple sleeve and Jaskier turned towards Geralt once again.

“Don’t you just stand there, Geralt. Go make the lady comfortable, will you?”

Yes. This was known territory. Take care of Roach. Make camp. He could do this. Nothing out of the ordinary.

He used igni to light the fire and went to work.

5

Not all birds, as it turned out, liked Jaskier.

They were a few days ride south of Tretogor when Jaskier took a look at a particular crop of trees next to a stream and stopped dead in his tracks. Geralt turned his head but kept Roach going. After a few long moments the bard awakened from his apparent stupor and jogged to catch up to his companion.

“Geralt, wait!” Geralt was of half a mind to urge Roach to go faster just to be contrary, but restrained himself. Lute bouncing on his back, Jaskier hurried after horse and rider until he managed to put a hand Geralt’s leg. The witchers looked at the point of contact, not wanting to flinch and startle Roach.

“What?” he grunted and tore his gaze from the human’s hand on the shaft of his boot. Jaskier laughed nervously and finally let go, but stayed close.

“You sure we have to go that way?” he asked and Geralt made an affirming noise. Not what Jaskier wanted to hear, it seemed.

“There is probably plenty of work to be found elsewhere. We only need to look!”

“You where the one who kept complaining about not being able to afford tavern food,” Geralt reminded him “And the contract says that the village down that road is where people started to go missing first. Of course I am starting there.”

Jaskier started fidgeting. More than normal, that is.

„I can‘t go back there, Geralt!“ he blurted out.

„Fucked the wrong man‘s wife again?“ Geralt asked after a pause. In response Jaskier sighed dramatically.

„If only it was that simple. I can never return to that place, Geralt. Or least for some years yet. Not sure for how long exactly but it is clearly too early,“ he explained, growing more confident in his speech the more he went on.

Definitely fucked someones wife then, Geralt decided.

“I am not pulling out of a contract because you were unable to keep it in your pants.”

The statement should be enough to shut down any kind of complaint. Jaskier being Jaskier, it did not. Of course.

“I just told you it is not that!”

“Hmm.”

“It truly is not what happened here. I had to cut my previous… engagement short, when lovely Miss Lydia’s husband returned from his trip earlier than expected and that was what led me into this lovely part of Redania. But you see, what brought me hear three years ago is not what keeps me from returning. The reason is much less romantic.”

Geralt refrained from stating his opinion on the romantic nature of being chased out of town by cuckolded husbands.

“What happened was- No, I truly can’t say!”

Geralt rode on, eyes forward. Jaskier was quiet for all of half a minute before he let out a deeply dramatic sigh.

“Fine, I will tell you, dear witcher. Nothing big, really. I was not at my best when I arrived here last time. And when I sat down to rest I was soon joined by some crows. And I might not have been my usual pleasant self, you see. One might have even called me grumpy. Downright unfriendly. I might have said an unwarranted thing or two to my visitors, who where wholly undeserving of such rude treatment.”

“You can’t go here because you insulted a bird.”

“Not just a bird, Geralt. A whole murder of crows and corvids hold grudges! I even came back later to apologize but they would hear nothing of it. Ran me out of their territory and made me swear to never return.”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier flinched when the call of a single crow cut through the midday silence.

“Shit!”

Of course Geralt had noticed the flock of crows perched in the branches of the beech trees ahead, just as he was aware of the oaks themselves and what that the field to their right had been planted with cabbage. Witchers were aware of their surroundings, but crows resting in trees were nothing generally alarming. Not until they took to the air and Jaskier slowly walked backwards, eyes on the birds. Their cries now filled the air, their bodies like a dark cloud against the clear sky. 

Something was not right. Geralt’s hand itched for his silver sword, but his medallion stayed still. No magic. Just… angry birds. A whole lot of them, flying in their direction.

He pulled the rains and Roach stopped, shaking her head in irritation. 

The crow’s caws grew louder as they descended on them. Or that was what Geralt though before the first twig landed on Jaskier. Then a larger one. Another. A crow dove down towards the bard and pecked at his head before flitting back to it’s flock. 

None of them payed the witcher any mind, but the fury with which they descended on the bard was undeniable. Jaskier, after a moment turned on his heel and ran the way they had come. Geralt, stunned, turned around Roach, who snorted at the unusually rough handling but soon caught up to the fleeing human.

“I am sorry you assholes!” Jaskier cried, wildly waving his arms at the attacking birds in an attempt to fend off the rain of debris from the sky. “Hey, watch out for the lute! She did nothing to you!”

Some of the birds landed, picked up pebbles in their beaks and took off again to drop them on a cursing Jaskier.

“Sorry Geralt, I know how much you enjoy my company, but you will have to do this on your own. Just remembered I had something to to. Something important, see you!” Jaskier yelled over his shoulder, still running and now hugging his lute to his chest to better protect it from the onslaught.

Geralt, still confused but rather sure that the birds were incapable of truly harming Jaskier with their unusual behavior, let Roach fall behind and finally stop. Jaskier would most likely be fine and Geralt could not abandon an already taken contract without at least attempting to fulfill it. 

Roach and he returned on their initial path towards the affected village. Maybe whatever killed the villagers also made birds behave oddly. If so, he would find out.

\+ 1

Geralt twirled around, his silver sword piercing the nekker’s throat before the monster’s claws ripped open his own. The next one he was not as lucky with. Razor sharp claws sliced right through the already damaged leather covering his upper arm and deep into the muscle lying underneath. The pain hardly registers through the fog of adrenaline and potions coursing through his veins, but the injury slows him down. What little time he needed to adjust his grip on his silver sword is enough for the nekker to lounge at him again and only a hastily thrown quen saved him from another swipe at his neck.

What an embarrassing way to die for a witcher. He had slain the kikimora he had been contracted to take out with little problem, only to stumble upon a group of nekkers on his way back to camp like a young idiot taking his first shaky steps on the Path. Lambert would laugh himself sicks should he ever find out.

When his quen fell, Geralt was ready to go down with his sword in his one properly functioning hand. Before the monsters could come down on him a final time, something enormous slammed both of them to the fight. It took Geralt a second to make sense of the scene in front of him: what had saved him from death and now tore the two remaining nekkers to shreds between giant paws and fangs was a bear. 

Geralt wiped the sweat from his eyes and steadied his legs. Of course things had to get worse. Bag the kikimora, survive the nekkers, only to get finished by an angry she-bear. He hoped this would not make it into one of Jaskier’s songs.

Jaskier, who he hoped would do nothing as reckless like look for him once Geralt failed to return from a monster hunt. Which the bard doubtlessly would, because he lacked any kind of self preservation. No way but to survive this encounter, then.

He readied himself to sidestep the bear attack, which never came.

Instead of attacking, the she-bear shook it’s shaggy head, sending bits of nekker innards flying and gave Geralt a long, contemplating look before turning and trotting off past the moss covered trunk of a fallen tree. There was no way the bear had not noticed him. Not with the actual fucking eye contact that had been there for second. Still, Geralt did not question the cause of his luck too deeply for the moment. Instead he took the moment of quiet as a chance to let his heartbeat slow down to it’s usual sedate pace and downed the last vial of swallow he’d had no time to reach for during the fight before slumping against the closest tree.

He felt his flesh starting to knit itself back together, the mixture of his mutations and the potion helping to stop the bleeding from his various wounds. The sensation was the only explanation why it took him so long to make the connection between the path the bear had taken and the location of their camp. The camp where he had left Jaskier.

Fuck.

He gathered himself with a grunt at the new spike of adrenaline flooding his bloodstream. 

Geralt hurried through the trees towards the campsite, which was closer to where the nekkers attacked than it should be and what if they had gotten to Jaskier while he was away fighting the kikimora? But no, he had smelled no fresh human blood on them. Good, but inconsequential if he now lost his fr- companion to a strangely acting bear.

He crashed through the underbrush and into the clearing where they had made camp, filthy and wild-eyed, steel sword in hand.

“Geralt, there you are!” Jaskier exclaimed from where he sat on a log near last night’s burned out fire like nothing was out of the ordinary. “You look dreadful, are you alright”

“I am healing”, Geralt said, taking in the scene in front of him.

“That is not the same as fine, you know. Gut you are walking on your own, which has to count for something with all that blood on you. Which looks very red and human. Is that your blood, Geralt?” Jaskier asked with growing concern.

Had Jaskier somehow not noticed the bear in the clearing? And – Geralt actually blinked in disbelieve this time – the two bear cubs in his lap? Sure, he was scarily good with all kinds of animals, but had the bard lost the last remnant of his mind? Maybe, he thought – internally near hysterical with exhaustion, potion side-effects and the pure absurdity of the situation – he could calm the bear with axii for long enough to collect Jaskier, Roach and their things, then run and get spectacularly drunk to forget any of this ever happened.

Undisturbed by those thoughts the adult bear ambled over to where Jaskier sat, then came to a stop in front of him to nose at her cubs, who let out exited little rumble-squeaks at her return. If not for his mutations, Geralt was sure he would have suffered some kind of heart-attack from stress alone. Jaskier, seemingly unaware of the pure madness, reached up a hand to pet the mother bear behind one of her ears.

“Thank you so much for looking after Geralt. I was quite a bit worried after you told me about the nekkers.” 

A deep, low growl, followed by a nudge against one of the cubs who tumbled out of Jaskier’s lap and away from the human.

“Your cubs have been very well behaved, don’t worry. Only chewed on my sleeve a little bit when I had no more sugar for them, which is better than Roach behaves some days when I run out of treats for her. Also thank you again for not trying to eat her. She is a close friend of mine, even if she likes to act grumpy.”

Jaskier leaned back and the bear shook her head as if to right the disturbed hair. Because why the hell not? Jaskier let out a sigh and focused his attention back on Geralt, who still stood where he first entered the clearing.

“Geralt? I promised my new friend here that we would help her getting some honey for her and her cubs. Do you feel up for that right now or do I need to patch you up first and then deal with the bees myself?”

“She understands you,” Geralt stated, baffled.

Jaskier blinked.

“Yes? And not the point?”

The bear growled again and nudged one of her cubs when it tried to wander back towards the humans. Right. Docile bears. Why the hell not?

Jaskier stared, bit his lower lip, then raked a hand through his hear, leaving it a mess.

“Fuck. Don’t tell me you didn’t know. It’s not like I ever tried to hide it or anything. Geralt!” Jaskier exclaimed in nervous mock-outrage, then cleared his throat and gazed over to the little family of bears, who had wandered off a few paces and looked a bit more agitated now.

“Maybe we can discuss this later? Ideally _after_ you knocked down that beehive for them? Or told me you are not up for it because, again: she is kind of impatient and all I can do to animals is ask nicely, not _make_ them do anything. So if I need to start climbing trees, tell me now. I mean, I will get her that honey one way or another, but it would be much easier and less stingy if you could just use your hand-magic thingy to knock them down,“ Jaskier said and wiggled his fingers in a poor imitation of the sign.

“And she would appreciate if that honey-comb-knocking-down happened sooner rather than later, because she is a busy single mother wit things to do. Also delayed gratification is not really a thing bears seem to be very good at so if you haven’t been knocked around too badly we better go right to the bees. Or I go to the bees with her but I’d rather not get stung to hell and back if it can be avoided. Or get stuck in a tree _while_ getting stung, which sounds even worse. So please and thank you?”

Geralt swallowed. This all was a lot of new information to process, but underlying it all was the relief of Jaskier being both unharmed and in no immediate danger of that changing.

“I will do it.”

“Great!” Jaskier exclaimed, cheerfully clapping his hands as he stood. 

„As I said to our friend, I already gave them all of the sugar cubes I saved for Roach - who is fine, by the way – so we best do our part in this little bargain right away. And don’t think I won’t have a look at those injuries of yours once we are done, because you look like you took quiet the beating. Not that it doesn’t add to that rugged outdoors-man thing you’ve got going, but it has me a bit concerned.“

* * *

What followed was one of the more bizarre hours Geralt had experienced. Not the most bizarre, but it was up there. Accompanied by Jaskier he followed the bears to an old oak tree which housed an impressively sized bee-hive, which he had the honor to knock down from a truly hard to reach place in the branches using aard. Once that was done he grabbed the bard by the arm and half-dragged him back towards the campsite before the idiot could decide he’d rather watch the bear cubs tear into their dinner.

“You can talk to animals,” Geralt started as soon as they were out of earshot and slowed down. “Ant they understand you.”

Geralt wished – not for the first time in dealing with the bard – he was better with words.

“Why is that not something you ever considered mentioning?”

“I mean, I talk to Roach all the time.”

“So do I,” Geralt pointed out.

“And she appreciates it very much, don’t worry,” Jaskier said and Geralt felt a pang of intense gratefulness at the confirmation. But whether Roach knew how much he cared for her was not the most important thing right now and he forced himself to stay on topic.

“I know you are human, Jaskier. Anything else I would have noticed by now. So, how?”

Jaskier let out a sigh.

“Okay, give me a moment to get things in order in my head because I suddenly have to re-contextualize every single interaction between us for the past… how long have we known each other? Nine years or something like that? And I am pretty sure I have told you more than once that I am cursed.”

Geralt held back a startled laugh.

“You are not cursed.”

“Yes I am. Which I have said. Out loud. Repeatedly. I even wrote a song about it!” Jaskier insisted, pulling his arm free of Geralt’s grip and gesticulating wildly.

“The one about the boy who is cursed with good looks for being too good a kisser?” Geralt asked, eyebrows raised skeptically. Jaskier huffed and they finally reached the clearing where Roach still waited for them.

“Well, as you should know by know, the truth does not always sell. It was nothing as romantic as that. But the best stories are those with a kernel of truth.”

“I thought it was a metaphor! Everything is a metaphor with you!”

Geralt watched Jaskier sit back down on the ground next to the remnants of last nights fire. Geralt lowered himself next to him, biting down on a pained hiss now that he started to feel his injuries again. He closed his eyes for a moment. Damn bards.

“When did you get cursed, Jaskier?”

“Uh, I was like fourteen or something? Annoyed a witch during my as a student in Oxenfurt. I mean, there was this stunning lady in that tavern, I asked her some questions. Granted, at that age I was not all that good at taking a clue when I was not wanted”, he shot Geralt a look when the witcher raised an eyebrow. 

“Oh shut up, I can take a hint, you know?Learned to, anyway. Not that I did anything bad or anything, but I asked a lot of questions. Which annoyed her a lot, as it turned out. Said something about how I too should be ‘subjected to the inane blather of lesser creatures’ if she had to. Woke up the next day with a hell of a hangover and understanding what the birds where screaming at each other in front of my window. Guess she meant it to be a punishment, but joke’s on her because I always thought it was a neat ability.”

“So… You don’t want the curse lifted, I presume?” Geralt said after a beat and Jaskier laughed, the tension leaving shoulders.

“Absolutely not. Why would I want to perceive less about the world? I know she meant it to be life-ruining, but I see it more like a blessing. There are so many stories out there I would never have discovered if not for the curse. So don’t you dare go all white-knighty on me. I have lived with this long enough to know that it is exactly what I want.”

“That-” Geralt hesitated. What was there to say, really? Jaskier insisted on being fine and never had shown any signs of being unhappy with whatever his perception of the world entailed. And Geralt had no reason to preach about sticking to what normal humans were able to take in with their senses, so why should he force someone to give up on something he had grown used to when it did not harm? Finally, Geralt made a decision.

“You never told me what exactly you said to piss off those crows in Redania.”

A grin spread on Jaskier’s face. Good. Nothing had changed, right? His hope was confirmed immediately.

“If you want to know, I will tell you. But first you’ll let me take a look at your injuries. Don’t think I have forgotten about that!”

It felt like a weight was lifted from Geralt. The tiniest of smiles tugged at his lips as he turned away to fiddle with the clasps on his armor. 

Everything was exactly as it should be.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to see me rambling about writing and a lot of random blogging, visit my [tumblr](http://cucumber-of-doom.tumblr.com/) because that's where the cool kids are.


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